The One Where I Ran 10km.

On Sunday, 12th July 2015, E.Hales and I woke up, donned our pinkest clothes (read: I stole one of her very many pink tops - I'm not a pink person) and made our way to our local Race for Life. If you don't know, Race for Life is a run in aid of Cancer Research UK. You can run, jog or walk 10km, 5km, or take part in the Pretty Muddy 5km assault course (which we're looking to do next year). It's a very pink day and it's awesome!

This was my first 10km run. I hadn't done as much training as I wanted to - a combination of work, other commitments and a bit of exercise burnout left me feeling a little unprepared, but that feeling didn't last too long. When you take part in a Race for Life event, everyone has a sign on their back that says why they're taking part.

The. Biggest. Motivator. Ever.

We heard some people share their experiences. We had a minutes silence to think of all those that are battling cancer, have lost their lives to cancer and have kicked cancer's butt. We warmed up. We ran. (Most of it, anyway. A blood sugar of 18.8mmol after 5km left me confused and not all there, taking a correction bolus and chugging a bottle of water.) We crossed the finish line. We hugged. We cried. We gratefully accepted the brioche that was being offered to us at the end (blood sugar clocked in at 12mmol by the end of the race). We happily accepted our medals. We clapped and cheered others as they ran/jogged/walked. We were united, with one aim: cure all cancers.

So I (mostly) ran. For those battling cancer. For those that have lost their lives to cancer. For those that have survived cancer. For my future. For my family's future. For the next generation's future.

Here's to kicking cancer's butt.